


Shifting Gear

by JoansGlove



Series: Smoke Gets In Your Eyes [2]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27080149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoansGlove/pseuds/JoansGlove
Summary: Brenda finishes what Joan started
Relationships: Joan Ferguson/Brenda Murphy
Series: Smoke Gets In Your Eyes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976404
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

Low voices made her freeze. This area should be empty, was she walking into an ambush? Careful steps took her closer and she caught the tail end of Ferguson's proposition, her stomach unknotting (but not all the way) as her worry dissipated. More careful steps and she was back in the shadows. Brenda watched Miles and Smith leave. She allowed them a few minutes’ grace before making her way softly towards H3.

Joan sat and considered her future. The women’s catcalls and their hollow threats rang out in warning but she knew that they were nothing more than testimony to her power, and pride slowly ratcheted her mouth into a smile. She had a will to get out of here and now she had negotiated a means to help her in that quest.

Her sober thoughts were distracted by a sudden shaft of light playing through the narrow glass panel in her cell door and Joan, ever the curious one, rose and peered out into the dark unit. The beam continued to shine on her door (and her door only) so she opened it and stepped out to investigate. A quick check of the other cells to make sure that she wasn’t being watched and she padded over to the bars. “They finally let you out of isolation then?” Murphy grinned lopsidedly and unlocked the gate, drawing it across just enough for a body to slip through.

“Yeah, but I had an easier time of it than you,” came the deadpan reply. Joan's lips twitched and she shook her head in amusement. “You coming or what?” asked Murphy and gestured towards the dim corridor.

“Where to?”

“Thought we could pick up where we left off the other night.”

“I was hoping you might have tried to do that sooner. You’ve had enough time…” accused Joan and slipped through the gap. Her palm found Murphy’s solid midriff as she eased past.

Eyes narrowed, Brenda tilted back her head, her half-smile becoming sly as she held Ferguson’s gaze. “You of all people should know how hard it is to get a prisoner alone on a day shift.” The gate clicked shut. “Which is why I volunteered for a few hours overtime. Now, we going to waste it chatting or are we going to put it to good use?”

The womens' voices faded as Murphy led her into the new Services wing and they stopped outside a nondescript door. Inside she discovered an homage to beige. A sink, a cabinet, a chair and a lamp. A double bed all made up and ready for use. “Well, this isn’t seedy at all, is it?” she joked, looking around the cramped room as Murphy flicked on the lamp and locked the door.

“It’s the new conjugal ‘suite’.”

“My assessment stands,” she said. They looked at each other and snickered wickedly.

The seconds stretched out as they stared at each other. Joan broke the silence. “I do hope that you’re planning to kiss me now. After all,” she said, “I believe it is your turn…” she reached out for Murphy’s utility belt, pulling the woman close, deftly unclipping it and throwing it to the side as Murphy’s heat pressed into her. Murphy’s dark eyes blazed as she stood on tiptoes and gripped her chin with smoke scented fingers, dragging her thumb with slow intent over her bottom lip. And Joan's breath faltered as she gazed down into Murphy’s face. And then their mouths met. It was as if she’d burst into flames. She burned all over, skin prickling painfully with the heat of her need. The soft caress of Murphy’s tongue made her reel and she clutched the other woman tightly as she steadied herself.

“That what you were after?” asked Murphy, and Joan could only nod.

When she kissed Ferguson again she got kissed back, kissed back hard. Ferguson's hands settled on her arse, squeezing tightly as her tongue filled Brenda’s mouth and muffled her groans of pleasure. She rubbed shamelessly against the swell of Ferguson's thighs, shivering as her clit grew hard. When she felt fingers tugging at the hem of her sweater she peeled it off, not caring where it fell. Her tie disappeared in a whisper and then Ferguson unfastened the crisp white shirtfront, yanking the shirt up her body and over her head, leaving Brenda to struggle with the cuffs as she stared down at her breasts. “Now these,” she said with a lascivious grin, “Were worth waiting for.”

Brenda cocked her head, hungry eyes flicking over Ferguson's face, and she dropped her a wink. “You’re damn right they are,” she agreed and flung her shirt into the corner.

“I wanna see this down,” said Joan, fingering the tight braid at the back of Murphy’s neck.

“Nah, leave it.” She brushed away Ferguson's hand and slipped her arms around her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin.

“Have you any idea how sexy you looked that morning when I visited you?” Joan whispered into Murphy’s ear. “When your hair was still all wild from sleep? It was all I could do not to ravish you on the spot. Take it down for me. Please.” She let her robe slip as Murphy grudgingly acquiesced and turned her attention to her breasts, they were jiggling so temptingly as she pulled pins from her hair that Joan was powerless not to. Warm and heavy, they filled her hands, and she gasped at the intense pleasure flowing through her veins and pooling in the sticky flesh between her legs. Murphy gasped too and rolled her hips as she dragged her fingers through her hair, and she stared at Joan, her red mouth open and inviting.

Released from their regimented plait, Brenda’s dark curls exploded around her face and she shivered as Ferguson, with a liquid look of adoration in her hooded eyes, spread them out over her shoulders. And then Ferguson unfastened her bra, and she stepped out of it, moving backwards to the corner of the bed as Ferguson shed her pyjama top and advanced. Ferguson knew just how to kiss her. Just how perfectly to touch her. Ferguson's mouth on her neck spoke directly to her wet cunt. Ferguson's grip on her nipples stole the strength from her legs. “Oh, jesus…” she breathed as the other woman dropped to her knees and ran her hands up her calves.

“Stockings,” she chuckled as her hands disappeared under the black fabric. “My…”

“Just for tonight. For ease of access, like.” She bit her lip as Ferguson lifted her hem to see. “Keep going,” she encouraged and grinned broadly as Ferguson stared up with a smile of salacious approval twisting that broad mouth of hers.

“My goodness, mink knickers,” she commented and reached round to release the skirt’s fastenings.

“Better than mink, just you wait.” She stepped out of the remains of her uniform and up onto the bed, staring down at Ferguson with hungry anticipation as her pyjama bottoms joined the rest of their gear on the thin carpet.


	2. Chapter 2

And then Ferguson was on her. Brenda fell with a shriek of laughter as her feet were pulled from beneath her, welcoming the weight of Ferguson's body as she slid on top with a groan of longing. The searing desire on Ferguson's face made her want to pass out, her intensity burning through her like a fuse, and Brenda’s whole being stuttered as Ferguson's tongue slipped into her mouth and teased out the contract to her soul. The band in Ferguson's hair yielded to her fingers and like a waterfall of gleaming, moonlight spangled ebony it fell around their faces. “Fuuck, Ferguson!” she moaned, clawing at her long back and Ferguson slid a thigh between hers and began to ride her hip with slow rotations of her pelvis. She nearly lost it there and then, there was so much she wanted to do to this woman, and all of it all at once, and it filled her with so much need that she didn’t know if she would survive it. 

“You are so beautiful,” whispered Ferguson and she kissed her with such a deliberate laziness that Brenda’s hips lifted from the bed. “Positively divine.” Ferguson eased herself down to address heaving breasts and forced a strangled cry from her as one nipple found its way between her teeth and the other between her thumb and forefinger. She looked so hot with her mouth full of her tit and Brenda grabbed handfuls of her hair and urged her to do it harder – oh god, so much harder! She was soaking wet when Ferguson eventually eased between her legs and inched her way down. Her cunt clenched and Ferguson emitted a low, honeyed purr as she sank her fingers into her unruly pubes and massaged the swell of her mons, and when the tip of her clit was circled she stiffened and almost came.

What a sight it was that lay before her! She opened up the damp little treasure and Joan’s teeth caught her lower lip as she gazed at Murphy’s wet folds gleaming in the lamplight. Glossy, swollen flesh twitched, just begging to be devoured, and she grazed it with her lips, her own cunt pulsing hot and hard as she revelled in the rich, sweetness filling her mouth and nose, but Murphy interrupted her, sitting up and cupping her face in her hands, lifting it from her sex. “This isn’t good for you?” she asked and stroked the olive skin of her inner thigh.

“No,” she murmured regretfully. “I don’t doubt you’ve got some real talent but it just doesn’t do it for me.”

She smiled and nuzzled Murphy’s palm “It’s okay. Tell me what you like.”

“Fingers. Lots of ‘em.” _Ah,_ she thought, _a woman after my own heart_. With a tinge of regret, she kissed Murphy’s succulence goodbye and scooted into a kneeling position at her side. Murphy knew exactly what she wanted and straddled her lap in an instant, grinding her wiry wetness into her belly and sucking on her neck like a vampire as she clamped Joan's hands onto her arse. “Fuck me, Ferguson,” she rasped. She sank onto her curling fingers and rode them as if they’d been fucking for years and, unused to such uninhibited pleasure, Joan began to lose sense of who she was as she held this amazing woman tightly to her chest.

It wasn’t just what was being done to her but who was doing it, too – Ferguson was so strikingly different, so dangerously enthralling, and so excitingly real. Ferguson was also a mistress of her art and, right now, she was her helpless canvass. Her head tilted back, tugged by fingers wound tight into her hair, giving access her throat. “Don’t mark me too much, love,” she managed as Ferguson's teeth sank into her neck. “Do it lower. Ohhh god, yesss!!” Beyond anything she’d ever had before, she was fucked by Ferguson's relentless hand until she was seeing stars, pushed higher and higher into delirium, each breath a whimper, a groan, a cry of abandonment.

Sweat beaded her forehead and she tossed a heavy lock of hair from off her face as she gripped the back of Murphy’s neck, supporting her as she moved like a piece of music. She looked like a goddess with all that hair and shining skin. Clit pulled hard against her pubic bone, it mashed stickily into her hand as her stiff fingers hammered into the surging creature, and the unfocused look that disappeared behind fluttering lids each time Murphy rolled her firm hips spurred her on, giving fresh strength to her aching forearms. “God, you’re fucking astounding,” she panted, “I want to see you come.” Murphy’s eyes found hers and she obeyed, gasping soundlessly, falling back as she stiffened, clamping down on Joan's fingers and squeezing them hard as an angelic look spread across her shining face. She hung frozen in Joan's grip, choking on her painful ecstasy, and Joan's heart fluttered with undiluted happiness as her cunt throbbed urgently. Catching a limp Murphy up in her long arms, the pair of them tumbled backwards in a tangle of legs and hair as she succumbed to her lover’s boneless weight.

Jesus christ, this woman had broken her! She lay there on top of Ferguson listening to her hammering heart, feeling all dazed and tingly as gentle fingers brushed curls from her damp forehead and she stared at the irresistible sight of the ex-Governor’s breast. It was too much to ignore and, lifting her head, she stole a soft little kiss from Ferguson’s lips. Then she stole a bigger kiss. With a look of dark intent she dominated a willing Ferguson's mouth and grinned against her lips as the woman beneath her began to arch under her touch. Ferguson’s plush breast moulded so easily to her palm, her pretty pink nipple getting harder and harder with each sharp tweak, her hips shifting as her long thighs ground together, and she let her body follow her hips as Murphy slid a hand beneath a wiggling buttock and rolled her onto her front.

Now it was her turn. Grabbing a hank of hair, she pinned Ferguson's head to the pillow, teeth sinking into her palely freckled shoulder as her other hand roamed the squirming woman’s back. It was like the shower block all over again and she only remembered that she had to breathe when her throat began to hurt. Ferguson groaned as Brenda smacked a buttock, and she spread her legs, toes digging into the quilt, the tendons and muscles in her long, slender legs flexing as she waited for another.

Ferguson's arse was a marvel of nature, each high, rounded cheek firm but soft, perfectly formed and unspeakably bewitching and, nestled between the soft swell of her upper thighs, a teasing glimpse of pink peeked out from the sticky black tangle. Brenda let out a breathy sigh, her nipples scraping delightfully up Ferguson’s back, following the path of her lips as she bestowed one last kiss to that wide, ruby mouth and grabbed a couple of pillows, jamming them under Ferguson’s pelvis before she made the woman beneath her whimper with a knee pushed hard between her legs. “I’ve wanted this so bad. You don’t know what you started the other night…”

“Don’t I? You think I haven’t replayed every second of it, Brenda? Repeatedly?” She shivered as the tips of wild curls whispered down her ivory skin.

Brenda’s lips twisted into a smug half-smile at Ferguson's confession and she bit her lip as she settled between her parted knees. “On first name terms now, are we, _Joan_?” She underscored Ferguson’s name with a clap of her hands on those stupendous arse cheeks.

“Call you Murphy if you like,” she gasped and her fingers flexed as Brenda’s slow, deliberate massage tugged at her cunt.

“Just don’t call me _Honey_ ,” she warned with a sharp pinch, and Ferguson let out a low groan.

“Perish the thought.”

_Oh my fucking goddd!!_ The sheet bunched in her fist as Brenda’s teeth scraped her buttock, her hot breath and soft lips teasing a symphony from her tender skin, the feeling sawing at her senses until her clit was so hard it hurt. “This is the best arse I’ve ever, _ever_ seen,” admired Brenda, her strong fingers making pink and white petals bloom over its surface as she squeezed hard. “And this,” she said, splitting Joan’s thick outer lips, to expose her glistening folds. “This… Ohhhh…”

Joan's breath caught in her throat and an uncontrollable tremor thundered through her as Murphy’s tongue flickered the length of her sex. More wet licks and she was shaking hard. A practised thumb sliding the hood over her clit and a steady tongue teasing the channel between sensitive labia had her pushing back, seeking more. And she got it. Bold fingers invaded her emptiness making her shout out a _yes!_ of joy. There was none of the usual tentative one finger, two fingers and then maybe three, no, she was immediately stretched wide and fucked slow and hard. With each solid, teeth grinding thrust she felt herself lose control and she didn’t care. “More,” she demanded, pushing herself onto all fours and twisting her neck to stare at the woman who, at this precise moment, owned every cell in her being.

_Just look at her!_ The way Ferguson responded made her wish she had her rod with her, but there was no smuggling that beast through reception. Pulling at the handful of hair in her fist, Brenda’s hips slammed into Ferguson's broad backside, clamouring clit banging against her bent wrist, pounding her fingers ever harder into the slippery, slurping furnace of Ferguson's cunt. The bed shook as they moved in sweat streaked harmony until Brenda stiffened with her second orgasm, her suddenly uncoordinated fingers slipping from Joan as she sagged against her muscular back in a flurry of obscenities.

“Sorry, love, couldn’t help it, you’re just so fucking hot!” When she could, she found Ferguson's clit and tore a whispered shout from her as she circled it roughly, making her arch like a cat before rearing up and sliding a hand between her shoulder blades, seeking the pillowy weight of Brenda’s breast.

How easily they slid back into that first embrace. How easily the shimmering threads of orgasm wound through Joan, twisting and flaring as she rode Brenda’s hand. Sharp teeth in her shoulder made her pinch at her nipples and she pulled at them until she no longer felt human, as if she was nothing more than a ball of pure, pulsing desire hurtling towards oblivion.

“Slower,” she begged of Brenda as her loins tightened in warning, “Slower... That’s it… Ohhh fffffuck!!” Brenda seemed to know instinctively what she needed and Joan's hips rolled jerkily as she teetered with breathless urgency on the edge, and then she was lost, crushed by the deep-sea pressure of her orgasm, kept safe in the arms of this fearless creature who slowly and tenderly stroked her back into the land of the living. Joan knew that she could fall in love with a woman who made her feel like this.

Ferguson's thigh lay heavy between her own, her head heavy on her breast, and Brenda tried to forget that it would have to end all too soon; that on the other side of the thin wall they leant against lay Wentworth. “Tired?” she asked and Joan nodded sleepily.

“Mm, absolutely shattered. It’s the most exercise I’ve had in months! I’ll have to start working out.”

She ran a strand of raven black hair through her fingers and sighed. “Yeah, well. You’ll have plenty of time to do it.” Joan looked at her quizzically. “Fucking Vera’s gone and volunteered me to replace Laughton on the Train the Trainer course for the new Discipline system, hasn’t she?” she explained sourly. “Says it’ll be ‘good for my development’.” A muscle twitched irritably in her cheek.

“So,” she stroked the offending twitch, then Brenda’s rosebud pout, “When am I likely to see you again?”

“Two weeks of learning the system then three more stuck out at the training centre teaching it to everyone.”

“It’ll be a breeze.” She kissed the salty skin beneath her ear.

“It’ll be a pain in the arse.”

Joan traced Brenda’s stiffening nipple with her forefinger. “How does she expect you to spy on me if you’re halfway to Geelong?” 

“Oh yeah, well, don’t you worry about that. Everyone’s under instructions to watch you like a hawk and report back. And you know they will,” she added darkly. “Anyway, it’s your fault I’ve got to go, you know, so you needn’t complain.”

“How do you work that, hm?”

“Well, look,” she explained and tickled Joan's belly button, “If you hadn’t needled Vera for that airing then Mitch wouldn’t have had his skull caved in with a pool ball, would he?”

“Ha!” Joan smirked and wove her fingers between Brenda’s. “He should put a claim in against her – she put me in there with those women to scare me, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to control themselves. And look what happened.”

“She doesn’t know you very well then, does she?”

“Not like you,” she grinned and slipped her other hand against Brenda’s hot crease.

*****

“You really going to let Smith bash you tomorrow?” The gate to H3 slid open and Joan stepped inside her unit, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Eavesdropping, were you?” Brenda shrugged dismissively. “Well, since you ask, I can’t see any point in prolonging the agony. When it’s over we can all get back to getting on with our lives.”

“You’re not in the least bit scared are you?” There was a wondering admiration to Brenda’s words

“Let’s say I’m resigned to it.”

“All power to you, Joan. Hope you know what you’re doing.” She locked the gate but couldn’t bring herself to leave. Nor, it seemed could Joan. They stared at each other until footsteps in the hallway shook them from their trance. “You know where to find the phone,” Joan nodded. “Call me,” said Brenda quietly.

“I will, now go,” she whispered and she shooed Brenda away with a flap of her hand as she melted into the shadows and was gone.


End file.
